home.

I spent the last week and a half with my family at my parents' new home in Santiago, Chile. It was my first visit there. I didn't know what to expect and, quite frankly, didn't have MUCH expectation. I just wanted to see my family. I missed my family. And the moment I steeped foot into my parents' new place, I was home. It's a silly, silly expression. Well - not silly, but cliche: home is where the heart is. But really. It is.

Within a few moments I was saying, "I'm so happy to be home." Because there is where the people who love me stay. There it is where I am taken care of. I'm a grown-up now but still, being in the home of my mother and father, makes me a kid once again. My functionality lessens in a way that feels good momentarily. I let other people make decisions. And allow myself to relax. I was home. And I couldn't even look at my mom and dad without crying. I wanted to tell them how much I loved being home. I wanted to tell them how much I had missed them. But if I opened my mouth, I knew I'd loose it. But I'm sure they knew. I'm sure we all felt it. We all loved "being home".